


Better to give than Receive

by xByDefault



Series: Tropes [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Christmas party trope, M/M, Unrequited Crush, actual requited, mistletoe trope, references to physical anxiety reaction, rushed writing, very rushed writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xByDefault/pseuds/xByDefault
Summary: Robbie figures out the worst best gift to sneak into Santa's bag at the town hall's Christmas party as an extra bonus of suffering through the event itself.
Relationships: Robbie Rotten/Sportacus
Series: Tropes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581253
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107





	Better to give than Receive

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing with the cliché tropes. This time G-rated and seasonal festive.

Socks!

Knitted ugly socks!

There was only one person Robbie could think of that fit the bill of gifting such soft packages.

That flippity flopping blue elf himself!

The bane of Robbie Rotten’s existence; Sportaflop!

That fateful Christmas Eve, when Robbie had seen the package with his name on it, he’d been surprised and touched, enough to clumsily try and backpaddle out of the sabotage of his own engineering. And for what? _Socks_?!

The fact that the man had had the gall for something so generic, like he didn’t know Robbie at all by now, well, he wasn’t going to lie, it stung a bit. They were nemesis in Robbie’s eyes, that was passionate intimate business, in a total non-romantic manner, of course, even if the elf was a bit too easy on the eyes for Robbie’s own good, enough to... _Regardless_ , the other should’ve known that Robbie was all about hard packages, who in their right mind would want soft ones?

And that was probably why he hadn’t been able to fully let it go, even years later.

So naturally, when Robbie had by mistake gotten invited to the little get-together in town hall, it had to be by mistake, nothing else would make sense, even if involving being cornered by a hoard of noisy kids -he knew exactly what he had to do, now that he had the advantage of plotting ahead of time.

He was going to exact his revenge on Sportacus. Not by trying to actively ruin the gathering he’d gotten invited to, no he would do it by playing by the rules, for once, and not trying to bend his back over backwards trying to appease some red jolly man flying in the sky violating every international aviation law there was while at it. He would find a loophole and he was going to abuse it to its fullest.

So he racked his brain over the worst gift he could imagine, and then it hit him. In the same vein of knitted practical wear, he would gift the local hero with the most heinous gift there was; a knitted sweater!

Nobody liked those. They were stuffy, smelled like wet sheep if you even so looked at something damp, and most of all, they were itchy! Very, _very_ , itchy!

Robbie was a genius, if he might say so himself, the hero wouldn’t be able to publicly decline such a _thoughtful_ gift.

Who knew, maybe it would be enough to make the hero leave town _forever_ on his own accord?

It for certain would make Robbie’s life easier.

One call later and the package arrived to fall down into his waiting lap. He could’ve just bought a finished product, but this type of craft demanded a certain kind of _personal_ touch.

“‘ _Knit your own sweater_ ’ kit,” he read the product description aloud, grinning from ear to ear. “Perfect!”

Later, two days later, around four in the morning later, he repeated the word tiredly, “perfect.” With his hands now stiff and aching, and his eyes bleary, as he held the now finished knitwork before himself. White and with blue patterns accenting the collar and sleeves whose shade matched the blue of the unlucky receiver’s uniform.

Maybe he had gone overboard on those, seeing how the blue woollen yarn shifted into other threads creating a traditional intricate design. It was _too_ perfect. Well, he’d suffered for far too many hours to make another one. He failed to resist the impulse to bring it to his chest, proud and delirious, and yelped as the course fibres brushed up against his neck and held it back away from him just as quickly “Perfect indeed,” he wheezed. It was itchy alright, that brief contact had near hurt!

He gingerly put it into a white unassuming gift box with a big red bow on top. Accompanied by a tag reading ‘ _To Sportacus_ ’, the giver being left unknown, as his own old gift had been.

* * *

When the day arrived he was near giddy with mischievous glee, and not because he was officially invited, no sirree.

Maybe he hummed a merry festive tune as he trekked through the freshly fallen snow, maybe he didn’t. And if he did, then no one was there to witness it.

Bessie was the one to initially greet him by the door. “Robbie Rotten,” she said, Robbie wasn’t sure if in accusation, or surprise. It might’ve been a bit of both.

He didn’t manage to get far after uttering a greeting of sorts himself when he got accosted on the doorstep when suddenly there were two standing before him.

“Robbie!” Sportacus said loudly and clasped his upper arm, ignoring how Robbie shrieked and jolted at how he came out of nowhere like that by the rotund woman in the doorway, all rosy cheeked and grinning. “I’m glad you came!”

“Sport,” he managed to squeeze out, unable to find a clever epithet to add on such short notice.

“You’re early,” he said.

Unfortunately so. At least he was a proper nuisance, no one liked a guest that arrived far too early either, he comforted himself with.

Sportacus eyed him from head to toe, seeming to take in the outfit of his lilac dress shirt, bow tie, and khakis under his outerwear that Robbie had picked for the occasion. Unlike the ever blue clad kangaroo, _he_ had made an effort. Robbie made sure that the package was hidden out of the other’s sight. “And as _you_ ,” the hero added, for no good whatsoever, eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Yes,” he replied.

“No turkey either this year?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about that.”

“Yes, I think it did take a little trip,” the man mused aloud, as he shifted his grip to put a hand behind his back, and Robbie swore that the warmth of it seeped through his winter vest, to guide him inside and Bessie moving aside.

The halls of the place were decked with garlands of faux holly and the usual Christmas tree shining oh ever so bright with its fairy lights. Robbie’s gaze fixed on the bag of presents underneath, the ‘ol Santa having left it the night before with gifts for the goody two-shoe doers of the year.

Excellent. What would one more present do?

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be,” he more so stated to the elf that had not yet left his side.

“You’re right,” Sportacus said and drew back, Robbie tried to ignore how cold his back felt as the hand disappeared, he really did try to ignore it. “I should help the kids outside.”

“Outside?” he asked before he could stop himself. He hadn’t seen, nor heard, any of the town’s children on his way.

“The kids are out by the back putting together a light show for later.” There was a shrug indicating that he was not all too sure what they had in mind but would humour them none the less. All too typical, all to trusting.

“Better get going then,” he said and started to shimmy away towards his objective.

Sportacus looked as if he was to say something but shut his mouth when a flash and jingle came from his chest insignia shortly before a worrying flicker of the lights around them. Along with a low boom resounding from where Robbie could only gather as the aforementioned backside of the public building, and the blue clad hero dashed out the door with a quick wave to leave Robbie behind by himself.

Robbie couldn’t help the low bemused chuckle, it was just all too typical and familiar in a way by now, as well thankful that he could plant the practical joke gift undetected, that was until Bessie’s voice carried over from one of the side rooms the moment he’d placed the box amongst the other gifts. “Ooh Robbie, while you’re here this early, could you help?” Her tone indicating that it was less of a request and more of an order.

“Eh, help? I, uh, _yes_?”

* * *

Robbie spent the next ten minutes or so awkwardly tripping over his own feet carrying dishes from the kitchen to the dining table, no one would notice if the sprouts had made contact with the rug he figured as he’d scooped the revolting sportscandy back onto their plate before the town’s children, Sportacus, and the mayor looking exceptionally sooty around his face, came walking back in to remove their own outerwear.

“Robbie Rotten!” the children exclaimed in chorus, sounding a bit too much like the woman’s reaction at his arrival.

“What?! _You_ invited me here! …You did, right?” Or they had invited him out of sheer obligation, but not expecting him to actually show up?

“Of course we did,” Sportacus said with an affirming smile as he started herding the children to find their places and took a seat himself at the table, the mayor taking a detour to the washing room ‘ _to tidy up_ ’, and Robbie made a point of not taking the seat of honour.

“Yeah, we’re just surprised you’re actually _here_ here, Trixie retorted, as blunt as ever.

Ah, so he’d been right then, they had just asked him out of a sense of obligation and hoped he’d be a no show. After all, last year he’d overslept his nap and missed the event itself, and the year before that he hadn’t even been aware that he’d been invited! He lowered his gaze down onto his porcelain plate, just so catching the negative shake of the pink one’s head towards her more outspoken friend.

He _could_ make a scene and leave in a huff, he considered. But on the other, free food was free food with dessert to follow, and he was a man on a mission.

* * *

  
Which he was now later second guessing if it had been worth it.

Bessie’s turkey was dry as paper, and tasted like actual paper, despite drenching the pale meat in gravy and shuffling the greens onto that Pixel kid’s plate when no one was looking, and he idly wondered if his own turkey hadn’t been better after all.

The children were dominating the conversation with inane chatter as always and Robbie had since long given up on talking, as the other three adults in the room seemed.

Until Bessie bullied Milford into doing her bidding this time by _helping_ her clear the table. It had looked like Sportacus had been ready to flip out of his seat to assist but had plopped unceremoniously back down at an assertive “ _sit,_ ” coming from the plump older woman. She should be doing professional dog training with that voice, and Robbie was already finding ideas for a new costume and persona…

“Oh boy, I can’t wait for my presents after this!” Ziggy said, too loud for the close proximity and wiggled in his seat, drawing Robbie out of his thoughts, more so at the following words. “My parents even put up an elf on the shelf at home, saying that she’d tell Santa if I had been nice this year!”

“Isn’t that creepy, having an elf spy on you? Also, why don’t _I_ have an elf?” Stingy huffed.

“It’s not real, duh,” Trixie retorted.

“Sure they are!” Ziggy defended, his already round freckled cheeks puffing out in indignation.

“If they were, I’m sure they’d have better things to do. Not all elves are Christmas elves according to my index,” Pixel said, sounding matter of factly as he tapped away at his digital wristband.

Stephanie tilted her head and asked, “wait, don’t all elves work for Santa?”

Finding a rare window of opportunity to join the topic, Robbie drawled, “there are a lot of them, Pinkie.” Twining his fingers together under his chin to rest on his elbows atop the table. “Christmas elves, house elves, farm elves, wooden elves,” he glanced at Sportacus sitting diagonally across him to gauge his reaction, “even sports elves.”

The actual living breathing sports elf’s lips were in a thin line, a miniscule twitch in his moustache.

Ziggy piped up, his face aglow with excitement again, “cool! Hey, if Sportacus was an elf he would totally, most definitely, be a sports elf!”

A tension in the hero’s frame eased up and he turned to the youngest of the children with a smile and said, “maybe,” all too cryptic, seeming to chance a glance of his own towards Robbie.

He himself merely raised his brows and tried to appear ignorant. Cheap shots, Robbie was all about them. It wasn’t like they were directly calling the hero an elf, just discussing elves in general. But sure, don’t mention them, lest you’d draw their attention. They already had one on their hands and that was enough.

Milford placed a big bowl of soft ice cream for self-serving before them and his mouth watered. A simple yet gratifying dessert, and he did serve himself a hearty portion.

He noted that Sportacus was being quite generous himself with the soft ice cream and adding berries. Odd, since when-?

Robbie took a spoonful and he realised why.

“This is plain yoghurt!” he exclaimed in full offense.

“It’s better with berry jam, here,” Pixel supplied and shoved the bowl of red jam into his arms.

Robbie took the bowl and more or less emptied it into his own whilst glaring daggers at the hero, just knowing that he was the one responsible for this.

The offender merely looked bemused.

Then _winked_.

Oh, Robbie was going to _enjoy_ his revenge for this all the more.

It couldn’t be long now? Could it? Robbie didn’t know how much more he could handle. Any other circumstances he would’ve already taken his leave. And he was by now living on a prayer as they started to clear the table for real and move on back to the couches and the Christmas tree with gifts.

He was to sit in one of the couches, strategically placed so that he could see the whole thing go down, when he found himself surrounded and he wrinkled his forehead. What now?

The children had circled him, teeter-tottering amongst themselves.

This couldn’t be good, could it?

“Well, Santa might be a bit harsh,” Stephanie started.

“But _we_ still like you and think you should have this,” Pixel finished as Ziggy thrust a round purple box into Robbie’s general direction.

“What is it?” Robbie asked and took the box in his hands, scrutinising it.

“It’s a surprise, silly,” Trixie leered.

“Alright then,” Robbie said under his breath and sat down, and tore the ribbon and lid off, to reveal a collection of chocolate hearts. They looked homemade, they were silly. Still, this was… _Nice_. These kids actually knew what he liked. Unlike some other present and accounted for.

“Don’t eat them all in one go,” Sportacus said somewhere to his left, having come to stand at the outer edge to watch.

Robbie cast him a look that said that he most definitely would, before turning to the children looking down at him expectantly. “Th-th- _thanks_?” he managed to stutter out, his voice thick.

“You’re welcome, Robbie,” Stephanie replied, sounding a bit too smug for his liking.

“Alright then, onto the other gifts,” Milford declared and started to dig through the bag to hand out the other wrapped gaudy boxes.

“Yes, onto _my_ gifts!”

* * *

  
Robbie was starting to wonder if the Mayor was dragging out on the whole ordeal on purpose, Robbie hadn’t placed the box at the very bottom, that he was sure of and yet the bag was now near empty with everyone having received a gift each, when _finally_ the moment he’d been waiting for arrived. “Last one, hmm, odd…”

Stephanie leaned forward. “What is it, uncle?”

“It says it’s to Sportacus,” Milford read the tag, flipping it to see from who.

“To _me_?” The man asked in bewilderment and took the white box, looking it over.

“Open it, open it!” begged Ziggy, accompanied by several agreeing voices around them.

Sportacus lifted the lid, his face a mask of surprise and took out the offending garment.

Robbie held his breath in anticipation, trying to fight back a devious grin.

A beat, barely a murmur as they took it all in.

Before.

“Oh, this,” Sportacus said breathlessly as he held the fabric at arm’s length in front of him, his blue eyes wide and his mouth in a little ‘ _o_ ´ beneath the moustache, “this…” Robbie was now full on grinning, waiting for the man to find his words. “This is _lovely_!” Sportacus exclaimed and his face split into a wide smile, his eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as he looked around himself to gauge who’d given him the knitwear from hell.

 _What_?! Could the man genuinely appreciate this type of inane gift?

Sportacus was looking around himself and Robbie swore he’d never seen him happier. “Did any of you?” he asked.

Anyone he looked at shook their heads, the children, then Bessie, and _even Milford_. But, not Robbie. He himself wasn’t sure how to feel about that, well he did know, he was disappointed, but opted to shake his head just for the sake of it.

“It’s beautiful,” the hero murmured as he turned to look down and let his fingertips ghost over the threads and pattern that Robbie had spent hours on.

Well, if the elf did indeed like the looks of it, then he was in for a surprise. “You should put it on,” Robbie suggested.

“I… I suppose, yes,” Sportacus agreed, now finally, _finally_ , looking like he had second thoughts.

Stephanie chanced to touch the garment herself and drew her hand back as if burned on contact. “It’s rather itchy,” she said. Robbie stifled a giggle.

Which however didn’t last for long.

“That’s alright, I know an old trick for softening the fibre. I’ll just need some white vinegar and hair conditioner and it’s all better!” the hero explained and detached his backpack from his uniform.

_Of course_ the damnable menace knew one!

Of. Course. He. Did!

Why was Robbie even surprised?!

And not even would he be granted a fleeting notion of satisfaction, since the receiver decided to pull it directly over his uniform.

Robbie should have made the collar into a turtleneck. He was fuming in his corner now. The only part of the elf’s anatomy that was in direct contact with the course fibres were his upper arms! The nuisance turned round to show off the sweater.

And to add insult to injury, even with the uniform underneath-

“It fits perfectly!” Sportacus proclaimed.

It did, Robbie had to admit. A perfect fit over his dense torso with his broad shoulders, and his arms.

And now clad in the knitwear… He looked soft, homey even. Sportacus looked his way, with a big open smile, unguarded, and something clicked into place for Robbie.

He had self-sabotaged himself from the very beginning.

And ended up giving the perfect gift instead!

Because of a stupid hopeless crush!

* * *

This had been a bust! A complete and utter bust!

Everyone was now busy with their new toys, or ties in Milford’s case, and primetime for Robbie to make his escape. He was going to go home, and he was going to gorge himself on the chocolate, the only good thing that had happened to him this year that he could actually have!

Alas.

“Are you leaving?” the voice of Sportacus came up from behind him.

Robbie had already his outerwear halfway on, his arms now stuck in the armholes of his winter vest in an awkward angle. “No, I’m going to the kitchen,” he deadpanned, trying to calm down his nerves after being sneaked up on. He saw that the elf was still wearing the sweater. Along with a sea of faces staring at him from behind the man, now that the opportunity to slink away unnoticed had passed.

“You should stay a little bit longer,” he said, a hand came up to touch Robbie’s elbow and help him pull the vest on despite his words of staying. “There’s-”

“Guys,” Stephanie noised insistently, “uhm, Sportacus, Robbie? _Guys_?!”

“ _What_? What is it now?” Robbie ground out and turned towards the children.

“Look,” she proclaimed and raised a finger to point at a spot above their heads.

Robbie glanced upwards and physically recoiled in horror. “Where did that come from?!” he squeaked out high and thin.

Pixel scrunched up his nose and said, “we weren’t doing mistletoes this year, right?”

“Looks like we are,” said Trixie and gestured between the two men. “You know what you have to do. Pucker up!” And chuckled.

Whatever gratitude Robbie had felt towards the brats for his Christmas present was out the window.

Robbie felt dizzy and he glanced towards the man by his side.

To find him staring at the pathetic twig someone had taped to the ceiling as if personally offended, then at the children, then at Robbie himself, then back at the children, and Robbie could swear that he saw how the colour on the other’s face grew from a healthy flush to an angry red, probably matching how hot his own checks and ears felt that very moment.

“I, uhm, I…” Robbie fumbled.

This here, right here, _this_! Robbie was going to strangle whoever that had put that up there!

Robbie sucked in a too shallow breath and steeled himself. Hearing his own voice sounding far away, detached, in his own ears, “okay, then.”

The volume of the anticipated murmur of the room rose in volume.

It was all in good natured fun, right?

This might as well be the only shot he’d ever have.

‘ _Okay, here goes_ ,’ Robbie thought, ‘ _one quick peck and it’s over_.’

And leaned down.

“What are you doing?” Sportacus asked and ducked away, his eyes wide and placing a hand between them.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Erm, I’m just kidding with you!” he said quickly and straightened up. “Good thing you said no, or this would’ve gotten awkward,” he laughed, which took on a desperate shrill edge, feeling his whole face burn and how his stomach turned into a tight painful knot.

“Oh, I see,” he answered and lowered his hand, righting himself up.

“Like I’d ever kiss _you_ ,” he continued. “Got you there.”

Sportacus was still staring up at him. “Y-yeah, you did,” and then cleared his throat, before turning to the rest of the room to ask who’d put that up there because that wasn’t _very nice_ , or whatever, Robbie wasn’t listening anymore, too caught in his own head and trying to stave off an impending anxiety attack. He was never going to live this down, ever!

* * *

  
Somehow he found himself sitting down in one of the couches again, having figured that leaving right after that complete and utter fiasco would only signal that he left because he was humiliated. He was. But they couldn’t know. None the less he was still wearing his winter vest and striped scarf loosely around his neck, waiting for a good opportunity to bail and never to be seen again.

All while his thoughts spiralled around. They knew. They all knew now, despite the quick save and trying to joke it off. _He_ knew!

Maybe, Robbie was the one that should leave town forever...

“It’s dark outside and almost eight,” Stephanie declared and there was activity around him to move outside.

“What?” he asked.

“We’re starting _my_ light show,” Stingy explained. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Of course I was, Sticky.”

“Stingy.”

“Whatever.”

So they were taking this whole thing outside then?

Yes, good. His new window of opportunity to disappear into the night, and with what little dignity he had left intact. He watched them get dressed and bustle out the door, opting for waiting until everyone had already gone away so to avoid any repeat of his last attempt to flee. A flawless plan.

It would’ve been a flawless plan, if _someone_ wasn’t staying behind too, that was!

“Aren’t you going to join them, Sportaflop?”

“I am. I’m just waiting for you,” the man said, lingering by the door, looking oddly straight-faced and far too stiff since the mistletoe that the hero had ripped off the ceiling so no other unfortunate attenders would pass under. “I do want you to stay.”

Robbie grit his teeth, putting his mittens on and other few belongings. “The turkey tasted like paper napkin.” Sportacus nodded in agreement, even though he had only eaten sportscandy during the main course. “The dessert was _deceit_.” This earned him another nod and a soft chuckle, at which Robbie felt his eye twitch in aggravation, because this wasn’t funny! “I have thus far not had a good time, and wish to retire.”

“The kids put a lot of effort into the light show and I think that you’ll enjoy it. I also wanted to-”

“No,” he cut him short and walked past him. “Merry Crisis!”

“Robbie, watch out!”

He only managed one step out the door when he felt how his heel slipped on the very first doorstep and fell backwards back into the hallway, his grip on the box slipped and the contents went flying in a rather impressive arch he noted before he landed not on his back, but in a too familiar pair of arms instead.

“Gotcha,” Sportacus breathed as he helped him stand up again and then thrust the box back into his arms. “I only managed to catch half, sorry.”

And the other half to the figurative dogs, as he saw the small lumpy hearts strewn around on the dirty floor of the short hallway.

His lower lip was not wobbling. It was not! He hugged the box close to himself and looked pointedly down at the few pieces left in it. This was so typical. Any good thing happening him was just not meant to be.

“Robbie?”

“I made the sweater,” he blurted out.

Sportacus was silent for a moment. “…You’re the one who made me the sweater?” he eventually asked.

“Yes, do we have an echo in here?”

“Thank you, Robbie.”

“You weren’t supposed to like it. No one likes soft packages.”

“I do. I think it’s very lovely and thoughtful.”

He snorted and looked up. “Of course you do.”

Sportacus made a low hum. “…You didn’t like the socks, and I didn’t get you anything last year, I’m not that good with gifts.” No, he really wasn’t. “But, I thought you’d like this instead,” he said and gestured to the box Robbie had in a crushing grip.

“I thought the kids…”

“It was from _all_ of us.”

“Oh,” he said and looked back down at the now deformed thing in his arms. The other man closed the door and it was just the two of them now without having to freeze.

The man spoke again, “I wanted to apologise, about earlier. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

The mistletoe. “You mean utterly humiliate me?” he huffed.

“Yes, and I am sorry. I made it worse.”

At Robbie’s blank stare, Sportacus tapped the outline of his insignia beneath the knitted material. Oh, so that thing could catch on to _that_ as well.

“Well, it’s not like we wanted to kiss in the first place,” he said weakly, trying to hold on to some resemblance of dignity.

“That’s not quite true,” he said, then ducked his head and shuffled his feet, and wasn’t that an unusual sight. “Not for me.”

“Whut?” If the damnable elf had actually been okay with it, then why had he-?

A flush had risen to spot the man’s cheeks. “With you, I don’t, I don’t think it should be something in front of an audience like that. Not the first time. I… I want it to be something special, private.”

Not that the hero made sense most of the time anyway, but actual rambling and stuttering was a new one. “Are you saying that…?”

“I like you, Robbie.”

“I, uh.” He nearly lost his grip on everything and stumbled. Sportacus, handsome sports elf, local hero and nemesis, _liked_ him! “You too. I like, I mean.”

A tension seemed to melt away in the other’s frame, and there was that crinkling of his blue eyes and smile growing wide as the man puzzled together Robbie’s own disjointed admission. And Robbie found himself mirroring the expression, feeling giddy.

“Could I kiss you, now? I believe I owe you one.” The man was rocking on the balls of his feet.

There was something so open and hopeful about it that Robbie couldn’t do more than nod in silent permission.

“I think I have some good news then,” Sportacus said and gestured above them.

Robbie looked up at the ceiling above, at yet another small taped twig of offending white berries.

“Where do these things keep coming from?” he demanded.

Sportacus chuckled, “I think it’s Trixie who’s putting them there. I’ve… I’ve already found three more.”

“How?! She’s not tall enough! And how is it that _she’s_ on the nice list, and _I’m_ the one who has to keep a look out for Krampus?!”

Sportacus merely shrugged at that and gave him a soft look, stepping closer and pushing the half-empty box out of the way between them to place on the railing by the door.

They were actually doing this then.

Sportacus stood on his toes and tilted his head up, clasping Robbie’s shoulders to get enough leverage to draw him closer, chest to chest. Robbie made a small embarrassing sound as the shorter man’s lips touched his own. Warm and firm, with the slight tickle of his facial hair. When he drew back Robbie chased him, wanting more. Sportacus wetted his lips and went up for another one, not quite so chaste and much deeper one now that Robbie was ready to reciprocate.

“Sorry,” Sportacus said as he pulled away a second time.

“What for?” Robbie asked, nonplussed.

“I was supposed to give you one, but I think I stole one too many instead.”

Robbie did catch on to the playful tone and chuckled. “Is that so, well, not to sound too cheesy here, but you better give that back to me, _now_.”

Sportacus hummed and complied. 

Robbie tore off his mittens to get a better grip on the elf and jolted at the touch under his hands to break the kiss.

“Jeez! It’s horrendous, please take it off!”

“No, you put effort into this!”

* * *

  
“Is… Is that that stupid song they’re always singing?” he asked when he heard the music coming from the speakers, standing in the dark as they watched the backside of the building in various colours flicker and create moving motives. It was rather impressive, he would have to give them that.

“It’s not stupid, but yes, I believe it is,” Sportacus yawned and tugged him closer by his waist, resting his head against his shoulder.

Robbie took the calculated risk of draping his arm over the elf’s own warm shoulders, thankful for all the gazes being directed towards the building and not them, as well for the barely enough protective layer of his dress shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like I'm making a popular tropes series after all.
> 
> Still serious about suggestions being welcome! ❤️


End file.
